Sparrow choruses carry on a warm March
breeze , echoing through racked
hardwood trees as helicoptering
evergreen seeds fall into a churning stream
Reality fades into a dream ,
Into bucolic , springtide scenes ,
Across beauteous , hillside opportunities* ...

Port Wood's Godhead breached the jealous -
canopy
Shards of pure design restored the pang of -
darkness
Tik -tok from a red bellied sentry
Water explosions from unknown entities
Morning dance from Mother Heron
Whitetails revealed in burning fog
Killdeer , nuthatch and jays work her
trembling bog ...

When my Creator calls me home , carve my marker from sandstone , for I was many different grains of sand pressured into one ... Fear , guilt and myriad troubled times combined with periods of love , sweet dreams and a restless desire to solve life's role on a forever changing stage ...When my days are done , tell the people that may inquire that I was a musician , a blue note with infinite combinations , sad , inquisitive calls followed by tri -tone answers and chord progressions ....Twenty years after my death tell a friend that I was a poet , submitting my mindset for the world to critique , sharing my thoughts in the name of peace .......

Beyond the blue lies the nightmare
Below green grass awaits their corruption
With well rehearsed navigation ,
salmon vie for the upstream
Lantern flies longing to make their
mark in June sky
So the depressed do bide their time

Distant flames are the sienna mane of Marney
The auburn tresses of winter steeds
Breath exposed in December breezes ,
ground quaking in thunderous charges ,
hoofed impressions in rain soaked , neglected
gardens ..
Whinnies in harmony with dancing hardwood ,
with rustling grasses , with a pastured expanse
that drones in twilights advance* ...

Our days on the archipelago , resentful at the pinnacle of the highest mountain in wanton view of a different island ...
To reach the zenith with no memory as to our road home , triumphant in our conquest yet discontent to mingle with the clouds , scowl into the face of our threadbare mortality , desirous to forever reinvent ourselves and to explore ..

May a hex befall this yard grubbing , bedeviling varmint called Armadillo . Your nothing but a Virginia opossum in tankers armor , and I've rock salt in my shotgun this evening to tan your tin-can , little bottom !!

Pick a star above , as the light of day recedes , with honesty ,
As water lashes the bank , breeze , each collision of rock and wave , Buck Creek dominates the valley given by igneous rock this evening , as does my endearing love for Mary Ellen , heart aflame , crossing rapid hand in hand , amongst rock , moss , uncertainty settled by enduring love and passion , my Aphrodite .......

In a black and white world I see --
her as a rainbow divided into -
a million hues ..
My midnight ballerina traipsing-
my wonted nightfall with starlight hope-
and taut , beloved , choreographed moves ...

If my love was the Sun we would bask forever in the
month of June , on an outdoor rocker for two with
aromatic Gardenias and Privet Hedge making our hearts sing ,
like the mirthful Robins at days beginning , just you and I* ...

Her hairstyle is combing long auburn , wet hair down in front then throwing it over her pretty head to dry ... She's in her mid-fifties ,  no makeup is ever needed , flannel shirts and blue jeans with tennis shoes and one precious diamond ring .. A voice that I seek at Dawn , a smile that lights up my world ..A walk with your best friend through the woods is a trip to anywhere , the shores of Greece , the mountains of Chile ...
A day in the country with this girl satisfies the hunger for anything I could ever crave on this Earth ...

Her expression is that of a child
Filled with wonder and mild
Panning deep blue waters
She is the gulfs daughter enthralled-
in the afternoon sea-breeze , longing for
sanddollars , tiny shells and dolphins ,
sandcastles and clapping palm trees* ..

Going through a matriarchs memories this morning . Family Bible , insurance papers , photo albums and trinkets ! Final affairs , funeral arrangements ,  prepared prior to her passing ..Sharing stories with siblings . The kind you've heard a thousand times that still bring a smile and a laugh ! This morning , no different , except for a brief spell of tears , a few hugs ,  smiles then back to the business at hand ..Mom's affairs and her Estate were quickly settled without argument nor trite , petty differences ! Household items , photographs , artwork and dishes were split three ways in accordance with Moms wishes ..The only thing left was towels , rags , clothing and shoes , sheets and blankets ! I opened the closet door , Lo and behold , taken aback , Moms pink robe hung in plain view on the center rack ! My brother replied , " May I have that ? I remember tugging on it when I was a child . " Sister declared , " Please , can it come home with me ? I will treasure it , you may see it anytime you like ! " I shed many a tear on this garment , somehow it means more to me than anything I could possibly inherit be it wine glass , silver set , gold ring or fancy dish .. After a few minutes of deliberation a deal was struck ! The robe was to be interred with Mother , along with a note from her children , one for each pocket ..A message from a little 'fella tugging on Moms robe for an extra Pop- **** . One from a little girl read to sleep by a loving parent . One from a little toddler needing a warm hug during stormy weather . And one extra note from all three , placed in Mothers hand , longing for the day when all four were back together again !

I should put my embattled theories to the test
The whispers of jasmine and honeysuckle -
invite a poet to rest in hillside hamlets , raptured in the diamond showered throes of Spring ..

Life's music , a complicated ballad indeed , complex time signatures for captivated audience ! Pray thee tell songbird , sweet voice of the Spring canopy ! To hear thy performance , unabashed heartfelt melodies , 'tis love committed to song , each articulate note strengthening my soul !

Lightning , stars and muscadine wine
Counting 'Angels Fire ' by increasing moonlight
Rain cooled midnight , lonely , solo whippoorwills ,
fresh cut hayfields
Coyote calls , crying for the morn
Nervous new acquaintances , be of free will
and let your love soar ...

The natural gift of Loblolly evergreens
Mockingbird , tonic songs from colorful -
Red Bud trees
Wind whispered vows of Summer days -
with sun-swept dreams , Black Crow cackle -
across the violet , flowered green seas
Shadows of Dusk tint a Georgia blue -
canvas , Pin Oak splintered memories -
from a waning afternoon , fodder for the seasoned -
romantic , aromatic Jasmine and Honeysuckle fill , overtake
my senses*...

Momma Thrashers working song , familiar voice of hedgerow levity
Timeless tune of the Springtide brevity
Pitch perfect Maytime sun-kissed divinity
Songs of hope and lasting serenity

A swizzle at dusk , a Wild Turkey rush  , the crunch of frozen grass , the songbird hush , the Sun setting fast in the 'Bama blush
Oaks racked in the throes -
of numbing Winter
Morbid , gray day dreamscapes
The call to dinner

An Atlanta stove ,
Where coffee warms
A brass nutcracker , a bucket of pecans
Windows drizzled , the house would whistle
Columbus grits and country ham
Buttermilk biscuits with peach jam* ...

I've been labeled a freak , a hippy an a
"hayseed"
A guitar picker , a second hand musician , a free
spirit in torn blue jeans
Neurotic , dangerous even stoic
A 'stoner' , a drug fueled guinea pig ,
a soldier and a poet  
A 'touched' brother and family member
Father , grandfather , anxious , lost , -
melancholy , ****** up an destined to be unremarkably
remembered
I've worn suits , coveralls , overalls -
uniforms and battle scars
Attended a hardline baptist church , ridiculed religious
organization , studied buddhism plus
everything in between in pursuit of -
my famished spirit
Temporarily snared in wrinkled flesh
Always wondering what lies next*....

Impostor subduing light , vernal star at nova ,
Within grip , petulant , manipulative apparition
Bringing shadows into diurnal hope of redemption ......

I've never been more at peace than when my bare feet were in
Camp Creek

A jet plane headed Southwest ,  flying to New Orleans this evening , leaving a contrail high in the sky , almost out of sight , headed to Bourbon Street , Jackson Square , the Mississippi River , to get a cold beer , plate of oysters ,watch a blues band , then to Cafe Du Monde for a beignet , hot cup of coffee ! Watch the barges floating by on the river walk , headed to the Gulf of Mexico tonight !  A jazz quartet is playing up ahead ! Crescent City , mother of the blues , alive with rock , cajun , classical , country . Beautiful women , dancing , laughter and some of the best food you could ever imagine ! Another warm steamy night in The Big Easy ! ..

How did a button end up in the family
Bible , a beach postcard in Job
A few recipes plus a work photo from 1965 tucked away
somewhere in Proverbs
An obituary in Matthew
A guitar pick in Psalms
Come to think of it they're in a proper
place after all* ...

Swaying Pin Oaks wave to me from
my window perch , a veritable sea of gold
and green in contrast to this dark living room
I remember these majestic Water Oaks as
seedlings , held upright by kite string and wooden
stakes
Cedar trees standing o'er twenty feet tall , Wild Plum
trees congregating for a quarter of a mile
Dirt roads at each intersection , a lonely state highway
for riding bicycles and collecting empty pop bottles
Watching afternoon Whitetail Does from July cornfields ,
carving walking sticks from Hickory , climbing
Crabapple trees for midday snacks , canoeing trips on
the Indian Creeks
Where do memories find rest as the body quietly withers away

I witnessed a cry for help at the freeway off ramp  ..
A man with a sign hoping to get something for his children this Christmas . He could have been dishonest about his predicament , just out for quick money for drugs or liquor , maybe even telling the truth so the more I think about him tonight I wonder what's the difference ?

Solitary puppeteers working
their angles , scripting heartfelt
psalms , revealing their dark past
with chilling vocals , accompanied
by simple , twangy , acoustic guitars
Touching the lives of ordinary -
folks struggling to get by
Riding into town with the morning Sun
Moving on by the light of the Moon
An open , honest , country balladeer
The 'Working Mans icon ' called home
on a plain old day in April ..

On a blue and alabaster evenings , snowfall glows beneath the Winter Sun , joyous , spirited afternoons and conviviality among old friends and family .. Red ribbons and tinsel , the warmth of burning Oak and Hickory , tall evergreen shadows , garland , ornaments with magnificent brilliance enhance the festive celebration on this Day of Miracles* ...

The Gulf is calling her kinsfolk home
The images of shorebirds against the Sailor's -
Sun
Drifting sands along white , sugar dunes
Behold , the ocean commands a battle fatigued -
shore , the Bride of June at Heavens Door
The shimmering , signaling pulses of her golden
ring
The approval of the gulls , pipers and pelicans -
from o'er head this miraculous evening
Songbirds of every shape and hue
Sparkling ocean avenues .....

Harvest Moon effigy , ivory in subtle contrast to pearls tranquility along windswept confident shorelines , tousled charcoal locks wrapped in silken bonds , violet attire that relays the waters reflection from a million stars ..
Sable Palm within the kindred of Oat and Sawgrass , warm Gulf
nightfall , diamond waves explore the pier , where lovers embrace ,
where romance directs the eve .. Amber lit vessels grace her southern horizon , Mexican breezes brush raven hair beneath the canopy of night ..
Breakers tinge the ocean West , ebony Aphrodite features are
aglow tonight . Unwavering and forever recalled ..

Evening cool rotation ,
contour dancers
Stunned , expressionless ,
fluid invisibility demeanor
Deafening room , stippled
ceiling box kingdom
Counter-musicality conundrum ,
lamplight abandon

Calico gloomy rail yards
Steel vessels whine , brakeman -
locking cars against Winter sky backdrops
Painted horseman bound for Augusta -
tonight , through Conyers , Rutledge and
Union Point
Eastbound dedication passing rural
depots , breaking the twilight silence -
for many a mile , lighting each crossing -
as it slowly rumbles down the meandering line ...

A feather pen with an endless supply of ink
The secret extension for my 'forever on call shrink'
Copious cups of java
A skeleton key to open the mind of Whitman
A workable plan for my poetic missions ...

The trees are revealing human forms
I see Creek hunting parties on the sandy shores
All consuming bonfires , embers seeking the
Harvest moon , the eerie sound of great
tribulation , the smoke of a once proud nation
drifting away* ..

Southbound trains howl at one a.m.
Every whistle blast tremolos and wavers
The dead of night receives it's violent lesson , wheels scream like Banshees , the howl of tortured track running through the trees with
late night cargo bound for New Orleans* ...

When a man declares himself the winner his associations are over ,
for love is nothing but a brief truce among rivals with friendships based solely on "common ground ."

If I could invert the world to -
walk the boulevard of stars
Touring streets of crystal
Avenues of pure light
Lasers exploding into rainbows
Ancestral orbs pirouetting against -
the astral night
O , to be held in the gravity of -
love ...

At the hall of the Mill valley I will slumber in peace ..
Beside a confident , cascading stream , underneath the White Pine , blush -indigo advance .. Agin able , guardian River Birch in supplication , among the honed boulders , to claim corporeal vision with Nirvanas depositor of endless dream .. I will be released ..

The sound of millwrights at work shall remain forever
The turn of the wheel will mingle with white shoal harmonies ,
topwater perch eruptions and birds of every color and euphonic song
Crystal waters displaying painted stones shall remain secured twixt creekside shrubbery , centurion oaks , sweet gum , juniper and tall evergreens ... Native grasses and vivid wildflowers will grace the Cotton Indian shoreline evermore

Hoisting three stone over -
a deteriorating shoulder
Hammering for gold amongst -
the boulders
Water lashing the bank , diamonds
are seen throwing painted reflections
A yellowed , cryptic , daily manuscript
lacking revelation* ...

Raphael held my hand as I stood
at the shore
All manner of life carried the news
of the good Earth , felled to one knee ,
spellbound before living waters
The cascading word of God ,
showered before me ...

Talulah Gorge sparks imagination of lovers , sincerity , life's fulfillment and passion , sadly in Autumn of life , devoid of vernal color from perch high above yet emboldened by the music of life below , rushing waters , laughter echoing from the valley , taken aback by the assurance of Sun , Wind and Archangel , calling me home to where the beauty of this great expanse , nestled in the mountain , revealed in the light of Heaven !

I wrote a story about April , she thanked me with a
yellow butterfly trimmed in black .. A Catawba worm
busy spinning webs , determined seedlings adrift just above the tall green grass .. I should write a poem for June at the beginning of May , of fanciful
flowers and fluffy chicks , homemade vanilla ice cream with cinnamon sticks . Blue candy sky with a marshmallow cloud , a laughing frog ,
a summer day of boating on a faraway pond ..

This old oak protected me from the rain
Her July foliage hid me from anguish -
and pain
She allowed my pocket knife and I to record a first -
love on her rippled trunk
A spinning tire swing provided many hours --
of cool October fun ...

Old Gray Gertie shades the Indian Creek -
with taut steel arms and wood planks
Cackling birds of every size and shape -
perched high above the root entangled banks
Rock bass skim the turbulent topwater -
for morning snacks
The Old Mill whistles with the ghost -
of the grinding wheel filling flour sacks
Gerties air is sweet ambrosia ,
Wild gardenia and rose , honeysuckle and -
magnolia
Churning rapids mimic the laughter of -
many a child , the alms of Creek fathers ,
the reverence of naked feet in cool waters
Sunshine reveals her gem studded brilliance ,
she's passing throughout the country foothills with southern charm and diligence* ...

Marigolds twinkle in July's ******* ,
Turquoise butterflies , picture postcard weather ...
Morning dew cools latent heat , hitchhikers
gather on wet blue jeans ...

Agrarian summertime dreams , days of Strawberry
wine , brilliant stars that whispered cool nights ...
Muscadine harvest , fireworks at horizons edge , Roman candles and rocket lights whistled low piedmont refrains ...

Her tone was impeccable with a black coffee , canned biscuit breakfast
She drank from a saucer , her take on the world was like no other
I remember frosted windows with the sound of her voice
Sometimes I can still hear her on quiet , early Winter mornings* ...

Lovely Gertrude . What has become with her passing ?
Fruiting bodies became one with piercing thorn that drew blood ..  Laborious annual rites of wine and song !  Hearts asleep on the beat , mouth culled with desire !
Blackberry Summer , my mourning matriarchs embrace ..
A grateful benefactor of her loving hand and good graces this July morning , in the field of berries , with warm memories !!

Cackling Mister Crow
Why do you make sport of me
Making fun of the very hand that feeds
You shop this yard at every morn for-
a free handful of cracked corn , relaxing atop
a public birdbath you've declared to be your very own
Tall pines to bask in the ten o'clock -
sun
Cool grass to hunt , hop , skip -
and run ....

Cackling Old Crow
You son-of-a-gun
Tromping through my garden for -
afternoon fun                                                              ­                                 You're a pirate with wings
A thief that sings
Hiding in a blackberry thicket with -
easy pickings
Standing at the feeder , scaring my chickens ....

Goodnight Mister Crow
Find a tall oak to rest
This farm would not be the same -
without my favorite pest
Do crow's dream I oft wonder
Dreams of airborne pillage and -
plunder

There is no perfume on earth -
that can equal the smell of fresh cut
grass
A June gardenia or morning wisteria
A Cherokee rose or July honeysuckle
rows
There's never been a scent bottled that could equal -
Mothers Tea garden in full summer throttle
No aromatic elixir available could ever-
compete with the 'tickle of the nose' from a -
homegrown tomato
Try to entice this southerner with a fragrance of such monumental -
power that it could pull him away from the lure of magnolia -
flowers
O how I envy the masonry soldier
A permanent sentry at the flower bed entry ...